


play (me) like a fool

by romeo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Frotting, M/M, Past SeXing, awkward so much awkward, crack maybe, i loved writing this so much, ninja chansoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeo/pseuds/romeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yixing is a freelance photographer, and Kris a model. The former is angry and frustrated while the latter makes the most absurd mistake ever known to humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play (me) like a fool

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on kissfanxing round 2016. Thank you to Lo and Line for beta-ing this!

It had been a long day. 

Though technically, it’d only been a few hours, a few cups of Starbucks americano, and a few minor everyday casualties since Yixing woke up. 

Unfortunately, the last time he’d checked his watch, which was under two minutes ago, it was barely a quarter after one. And ‘a quarter after one’ meant that he was still _very_ far from being done with the day, and _very_ far from getting home and climbing into bed so he could go back to brooding unhealthily over his two-month-old breakup. 

It was definitely a long day.

Yixing waited another excruciating ten seconds before he decided he should double-check the whole setup despite having done the housekeeping almost seven times by now. But at least it was better than growing tired from just standing around doing absolutely nothing and it could serve to pass some time. After all, re-adjusting the already perfectly adjusted lighting could take at least another fifteen minutes off his mind. 

His DSLR, a Nikon D5500, had been ready since forever. The white backdrop and black umbrella’d been properly put up, and the lighting had been adjusted over a billion times. He idly tested the wireless lighting connector _again_ even though he had only planned to do so when his model was busy changing clothes. He’d also determined the shutter speed of his camera at least thrice, not counting this time, earning himself no sense of productivity whatsoever. Just another very exasperated sigh.

And after _all that_ , he even walked to the dressing rooms, drew the curtains to the left with a sharp move and checked inside, making sure everything was tidy and presentable. It wasn’t that he cared for the models to feel comfortable – it was really because he had nothing to do. He might even consider trashing the stall if worse came to worst. 

Nonetheless, the mirrors looked impeccable, the floor was clean, the cushioned seat neatly tucked into a corner, and the hangers were shining gold. Yixing nodded satisfactorily before his expression sharply switched back to that of annoyance.

He then turned to the other side of the room. The hair and makeup crew and his intern were all playing some multiplayer cross-device game on their phones. They tapped their suppressed frustration into the bright screens with grave expressions, slowly letting their energy and earlier enthusiasm drain away as the clock ticked on with a dreary sequence of echoing clicks. 

That made for a rather depressing landscape, Yixing thought, utterly dispirited.

He ran a hand in his recently dyed dirty blond hair with emphasized impatience and then solemnly wondered what the probabilities were for his coming forty-five minutes early to coincide with his model’s being officially late by forty-five minutes. 

Granted, yes it was a terribly rainy day and the traffic was shit, the pedestrians were fuckers when they wouldn’t stop at crossings, and maybe the subway system was down because someone decided to take a jump. However, in those cases, Yixing would have expected people (the model) to set an earlier alarm (like Yixing had exceptionally done) and head out earlier and arrive earlier, just like a pro, and—

He massaged his temples, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Maybe he was asking for too much: he had to think more optimistically. 

_People aren’t perfect!_ Optimistic.

_People are shit!_ Optimistic.

_People are self-centred!_ Optimistic.

This wasn’t going anywhere.

At least the subject wasn’t a _whole_ hour late, right? It was still _tolerable_ , right? It could have been far worse.

Besides, it wasn’t like this day was going to be any more eventful than the previous ones. It wasn’t like Yixing had a dinner date or someone to shout “I’m home!” to when he got back to his empty flat. So what could some tardiness do to him? He wasn’t going to miss out on anything. Not even on sleep because breakups did that to innocent and unsuspecting people.

He gestured to his assistant, Kyungsoo, to go take a break if the lad wanted to, and then took out his phone, feeling slightly insecure.

Luhan [13:31]: why r u texting me during ur photoshoot  
Yixing [13:31]: bc i love u  
Luhan [13:32]: sounds suspicious  
Luhan [13:32]: is this about sehun, or is ur model late and u just wanna pass time and ive somehow been nominated as ur official go-to time killer  
Yixing [13:32]: t-the latter  
Luhan [13:32]: who the f stutters in a text message  
Yixing [13:32]: i always aim to be uniq  
Luhan [13:32]: ok. so. this isn’t about sehun. 

Yixing [13:34]: uh. well. have i already told u how shit he was this one time  
Luhan [13:34]: we’re not having this conversation.  
Yixing [13:34]: hear me out, sehun was actually so shit that  
Luhan [13:34]: we are NOT having this conversation  
Yixing [13:34]: he fucking stole my photos of him so he could use them  
Luhan [13:35]: in fact, DONT talk to me until u found urself a nice tall charming brilliant handsome stranger NOT SEHUN with whom u had hot passionate mindblowing sex in some public area. no buts.  
Yixing [13:35]: im not shooting a rated romcom movie here, this is a fashion shoot  
Luhan [13:35]: NO BUTS  
Yixing [13:35]: i didn’t but!  
Luhan [13:36]: im not talking to u anymore (( i.e. by blocking ! le gasp ! )) until my conditions have been met. So long, farewell, 再見 my old friend. 

Yixing sighed audibly and clicked on the home button of his smartphone. 

That was a brilliant rant session. How did that end faster than a person could blink? The photographer wanted to drop to the floor and give up on life.

But as he looked up from his phone, he almost jumped a mile when he realised there was a tall man standing in front of him. 

“Hey, er, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry I’m late,” the man mumbled bashfully though somehow it sounded more like an inarticulate stomach grumble than anything else. The shorter man didn’t bother looking up at him; he was angry enough as it is. He quickly put away his phone and started motioning for Kyungsoo to get everything ready. His assistant just stared at him with a deadpan face that read, “Please, Yixing.”

Right. Everything was already ready.

The photographer rolled his eyes, and that was when he locked eyes with the model. But he didn’t maintain the contact, just merely scanned him up and down very quickly, barely giving enough time for his brain to register the man’s features: tall, dark-looking, short black hair, thick eyebrows, charming eyes, good jaw angle, a cross tattoo right under his neck. 

Somehow the combination made Yixing feel like he was having an uncanny sense of déjà-vu.

“Kris Wu, was it?” he asked and tried sounding unimpressed… though maybe the model’s overall handsomeness sort of got to him, so he sounded like he was _feigning_ unimpressiveness instead. He half-prayed that the other was too unmindful to spot the difference. 

“Yes.” 

Yixing, never quite tolerating monosyllabic responses, just eyed Kris pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, get going. I don’t have all day,” he groaned. Though frankly, now that whining and ranting to Luhan about Sehun the whole night was out of the game, it wasn’t like he had any plans for the rest of said day. 

“I’m really _really_ sorry,” Kris repeated again, this time in a voice that was raspy and in some sense _suave_. It got to Yixing more than he would admit, but for the moment, he was going to pretend he was immune to late douchebags who were trying to be forgiven by using their Greek demigod-like assets. He contemptuously shook his head.

“Whatever,” the blonde practically snarled. He pointed nonchalantly towards the makeup crew who were looking as ready as ever. “There’s your crew—” then he turned towards the other side, “—and there’s your dressing room.”

Kris just nodded nervously, not making much of a move, and Yixing had to resist the urge of just kicking the taller man into action.

“Look,” the shorter said, slightly exasperatedly. “Quit the moping and just get to work, and if we miraculously get this done before sundown, I will forgive your tardiness and smile at you very sweetly and angelically with my dimples and then pretend you don’t exist and move on.” 

The model just bit his lip and bowed guiltily and basically bounced over to the group of makeup artists without further comment. The staff members looked like they were in a fouler mood than Yixing, what with their very evidently irritated frowns. The photographer sighed when one of them must have said something nasty, which made Kris start bowing apologetically again. 

Yixing didn’t blame the crew for their impatience, but it wasn’t like this was speeding up the process in any way. In fact, they were all going to be there until at least six o’clock if Kris was just going to bow copiously to every single person in the room like a homeless pigeon desperately pecking at a grey sidewalk.

Yes, maybe he was starting to feel sorry for Kris. At least the guy hadn’t started vomiting excuses left and right like most shit models did when they were unfashionably late. Yixing would definitely give credit when credit was due.

And, the fact was, Kris seemed like an earnestly nice guy, the type who wasn’t usually late for photo shoots and appointments, the type who really got unluckily fucked up by bad traffic or weather or some moose crossing the road.

Moreover, if… anyone cared that Yixing admitted, Kris looked terribly _fashionable_ in that black dress shirt and designer pants—

“I’ll get the disk reflector,” Kyungsoo unceremoniously informed, popping the photographer’s bubble of thoughts, leaving him blinking profusely.

“Okay. Er, you go do that,” Yixing answered sheepishly, trying to re-orient himself back to everything that he should be preparing for (read with mild sarcasm). “I’ll just go … test the … main lighting again.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Kyungsoo replied monotonously.

“Well. It doesn’t look like I have anything better to do right now, does it?” Yixing answered acerbically even though he was fighting the urge to turn towards a particular side of the room where everyone was primping up a very certain someone in order to … gawk. For lack of better word.

Kyungsoo just stared at him with an expressionless face and a slouched posture, which could mean anything ranging from a sarcastic _no, you’re right, you have nothing better to do, because ogling at someone you’re supposed to be angry at is a definite no-go, so please go check on those wireless lighting connection and shutter speed for the nth time_ to just a typical _you’re fucking hopeless_.

The photographer bit his lip as he re-attempted to translate the blank countenance of his assistant, but it was getting harder and harder when he started getting distracted by Kris’s voice apologising again over something or another. 

After mentally counting to sixty, he gave in to the urge to just take a tiny peek at the makeup area and – wow, _okay_ , so the crew was fast and efficient despite their angry temperament: the model was looking alarmingly gorgeous already— the light hair styling, the subtle crimson to the cheeks, the—

“I don’t feel it’s necessary anymore for me to answer your question. I’ll just go and get the disk reflector.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes before he turned and walked away.

Yixing sighed heavily. 

He needed to get himself together: there was no time to take pity on the other party anymore. In fact, it was time he actually finished this as quick and efficiently as possible, forget about the tall handsome model, wrap everything up and go home to order a lot of takeout. He suddenly really liked the sound of that: he should order for five and stress-eat his evening away while watching some shit romcom movies. Or porn, if he felt shameless enough. 

Or maybe he should just call Luhan. A few hundred times, if necessary. Bawl his eyes out over one such Oh Sehun. _Again_. 

Though on second thought, at this rate Luhan might just unfriend him completely, and Yixing definitely didn’t want that.

“Hey Kyungsoo, do you have time tonight?” he asked impulsively. His assistant turned around, looking at him with a sceptic gaze.

“For supper together somewhere,” Yixing clarified. “You know, the type where you make sure that I don’t go home and throw myself out the window—”

“I wasn’t aware that type of dinner date existed,” Kyungsoo looked a bit nervous despite the sarcasm.

“I’m … getting a bit tense mentally planning my evening, that’s all,” Yixing added, trying to motion something abstract (reassurance?) with his hands. Kyungsoo gave the photographer an inscrutable sidelong glance.

“I’m really sorry, Yixing. But tonight’s not good for me. I have a dentist’s appointment that I’ve been putting off for too long. How about tomorrow?” Kyungsoo asked. “I’ll be on my phone in any case. You could text me. I’ll be there next to you, spiritually.”

The photographer snorted. “You’ll be texting me while a dentist is drilling your teeth?”

“I can try.”

Yixing smiled a little, clearly emotionally moved as his eyes went watery. “You’re too good for me.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but his heart-lips curved up into one of those really adorable smiles that could stop the world if need be.

“What you could also do is ask _that model_ out,” the assistant then nonchalantly suggested, cocking his head towards Kris. Yixing widened his eyes before recomposing himself, turning his back to his assistant and basically brushing off the advice as he would a peewee bug on his arm.

“You didn’t have to reject me twice, you know. Once was enough,” the photographer responded. Despite that, he inadvertently glanced at Kris. The model was up on his feet and lankily pointing at the changing rooms while talking to the crew.

“Oh! He’s ready to go to the dressing room. We should get ready—” Kyungsoo smoothly changed the subject with an attempted wink, the expected enthusiasm just dying out before getting to either of them. Yixing just sighed again, cracked his neck and then walked to his DSLR.

Almost at the same time, Kris sauntered to the dressing room, closing the red curtain behind him. Everyone else in the room let out a sigh of relief. Somehow the end of the session was much more tangible, now that it had actually _started_. 

Yixing took his camera into his hands, finally getting into a professional’s business mode. He passed the strap over his head, letting it fall a bit to his shoulder. He then turned on the camera and snapped a few test photos, mostly out of formality (given the fact that he had already done so a couple of times already). 

He noticed from the corner of his eye that the makeup artists and his intern were getting visibly relaxed. The tension was dissipating from the atmosphere, which was a very good sign. 

Maybe they’ll finish on time after all. Yixing turned to Kyungsoo, who was checking up on the test photos on a large computer screen.

“Do you think we should readjust the angle of the shoulder light?” Kyungsoo pointed. Yixing narrowed his eyes.

“I think it’s fine. Why, is it too bright?”

“Just making sure,” his assistant said. Yixing bent down to give the screen a good look.

From the left, he heard someone choke, and then someone else on his right squeaked, but Yixing was completely unfazed, too busy trying to play with some settings.

“That’s a sight,” Kyungsoo then suddenly commented. Yixing frowned, wondering what his assistant meant, but he was so engrossed _in his job_ that he couldn’t be bothered. 

“Yixing,” his assistant murmured.

“Hmm?”

“The model.”

Yixing raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, whatever, I’ll see if he’s going to cooperate first, _then_ I’ll consider asking him out— oh wait is he ready—”

“ _Yi. Xing._ ” Kyungsoo repeated with more emphasis on the last syllable, which made the photographer look at him peculiarly.

“Yeah? I’m listening?”

Kyungsoo nervously shifted his eyes towards the front, motioning for the blonde to follow his gaze, which he did.

That’s when Yixing finally and witnessed The Sight beyond the monitor of the computer.

“Wha—” he started, his eyes growing wide, his expression changing from confusion to ‘holy-shIT’ in less than a split second.

Someone dropped their coffee mug. The momentary shatter amplified the awkwardness with eerie fervour.

Yixing’s jaw almost dropped to the floor with it. His mouth went dry almost instantaneously, as his brain was taking everything in at the speed of light, making sure that he would never ever forget this insanely glorious moment. 

Sometimes this type of phenomenon was known as _unabashed ogling_ , but when it was an evidently collective movement (even Kyungsoo was in), it became something like a _good opportunity to keep ogling without fucking shame_. 

Because when one had an unsuspecting model standing stark naked in the spotlight, against a white background that shone against his skin, with nice wavy black hair stylized better than a sex god’s, cheekbones to die for, an innocent expression of utter confusion plastered across his beautiful figure that made everything just so _good_ , and then a glimpse of their _equipment_ , one just had to fling ethics out the window and exploit the best mistake a model could ever make. 

Which was that of fucking up the genre of the photo shoot. Or thinking that this photo shoot was a nude one for some inane reason.

“I-is something wrong?” loquacious Kris Fucking Wu asked, and nearly everyone just slackened their jaws with the exception of Yixing who was so nonplussed he didn’t know how to function anymore.

“I—” he attempted anyhow, thinking that being one of the main protagonist of this whole incident, he should have the next say. “I— I-I…” He cleared his throat nervously, and felt himself flushing red at a dangerous rate, the temperature of his cheeks rising so much his eyes went steamy with heat.

“ _I_ ,” he tried again but almost choked on his uneven breath. “I think you— I t-think, um. I think _we_ should, er, just confirm a few _things_ , Kris. You get me? See if we’re on t-the same page about…. _stuff_ ,” he said as casually as possible.

Kris reddened at that, as if he was caught red-handed about something. As if whatever Yixing said so eloquently could mean anything just yet. The model shyly took a step back because well, shit. He was well aware that something was more than just the conventional type of ‘wrong’.

Yixing took another very discreet look towards the south again. Not entirely intentionally, only because he wasn’t sure where to look and people usually aimed for the floor, and well that possibly entailed passing by some attractive areas.

Lean body, solid abs, interesting hipbones, … and then the photographer was starting to feel a bit faint. 

It was only until an uncalled for comparative analysis of Kris Wu’s Manhood and Sehun Oh’s Cucumber popped up in his mind that Yixing finally snapped out of it.

“Okay. Right. So. Please go back to the dressing room, Kris. I’ll just. Bring the. Papers. In a moment,” he squeaked successively. The model blushed.

“Okay,” he said a bit worriedly.

When he walked back into the stall and closed the red curtains behind him, everyone exhaled almost simultaneously, and in less than a fragment of a second after that, the whole room filled with unintelligible chatter that was akin to that of a flock of tiny sparrows trying to have a grand meeting in a bush.

Yixing had to blink several times before he was back on earth, back to his assistant who was smiling rather malevolently, for a change.

“That was uncalled for,” the photographer stated, a frown of worry upon his face. “Was this supposed to be a-a nude shot? Hadn’t we read the—”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “ _He_ messed up.”

Yixing looked at the description of the job, flipping through two pieces of paper back and forth, trying to see if he could find the words _nude, naked, unclothed, exposed, avant-garde minimalism_ or _looking to put to shame all the men in close vicinity_ in the printed text.

Nothing of the sort.

It clearly stated that it was a fashion shoot. With clothes. With classy and chic clothes with some urban touch.

“You’ll have a talk with him, I suppose,” Kyungsoo pointed at the dressing room.

“I’ll what?” Yixing squeaked, blinking at Kyungsoo, though he knew he was just asking to reconfirm his demise.

His assistant just rolled his eyes again while turning back to the computer with a quick swivel of his chair.

“We don’t have all day, Yixing. I’ve got an important dentist’s appointment later that I _absolutely_ cannot miss,” he stated with so much sarcasm, it was difficult for the photographer to stomach despite having lived on irony and all its forms for the past decade.

“Alright. Okay. I can do this.”

 

 

He actually really wanted to phone Luhan first. It was an emergency call he needed before he dared enter a dressing room that was occupied by the Messiah that Luhan had predicted in a one thirty-five p.m. text message. He went to a corner of the room, far enough so that no one could hear his mid-afternoon crisis.

“L-Luhan?” he stuttered into the speaker of his phone. 

“That doesn’t sound like you just had mind-blowing sex. Try again later—” came the flat response.

“Well, maybe I’m about to, mind you,” Yixing retorted without really processing what he had said, and it surprised him even more than he could admit.

“That’s curious progress. It’s what, like an hour since we texted? How in the world did you get someone so fast? What’s he like? Are you, like, _on top_ of him?”

“Yes, one hour, and I don’t know, and er, tall handsome— fits your description like a ball to a glove – and NO I’m not on top of him. Yet. Er.” The photographer was breaking into cold sweat.

“Okay, so what’s up? I’m not all that psychic you know. You still have to give me all the saucy details.”

“I think you should invest in that field, actually. The psychic stuff. What do they call it? Uh,” Yixing deadpanned. 

“Yes, and the next thing I know, I can bend spoons telekinetically. Whatever. Get to the point, Yixing. Are you chickening out in the dude’s bathroom or something? What’s happening?”

“He’s in the changing rooms actually.”

“That’s great! I’m even getting the public area part of the prophecy right! _Incredible_! Go me!!”

“He’s also very naked.”

“Oh? All the better.”

“And probably very confused.”

“Oh god. Yixing. _Yixing_. What on earth did you do? Did you mug him? Drug him? I didn’t know you had it in you. My god.” Luhan was being overtly dramatic.

“No, for Christ’s sake, I am an extremely lawful person. I just … don’t know what’s going on, and that’s the thing. I think he got confused about the type of shoot this is? Or messed up the job description. He looks just as lost, in any case,” Yixing tried elucidating.

“Okay. Well. Then. It was in your stars! You were fated to mate with this nice and tall and handsome and … charming guy!” Luhan replied with fervent glee. “Now go in there and don’t call me until you’ve properly finished.”

“But—”

“沒事啦，你別擔心 , you’ll nail it, I know you will. Now, tata, my Xingxing,” his friend cooed before the line just went dead.

 

That was not even remotely close to what Yixing needed. 

He had called expecting some kind of good advice on how to inform a model they might have mistaken the word ‘clothed’ for ‘nude’. What he got instead was encouragement to _jump_ a perfectly innocent man who should have come with a warning attached to his neck.

Everything was looking a bit bleak now, and Yixing felt a bit faint.

Nonetheless he calmly walked over towards the daunting dressing room and its dramatic red curtains. Everything started playing in slow motion around him, and he knew it was a sign that he was far too nervous to do anything.

“You can do it, Xiao Zhang!” someone cheered unhelpfully.

Yixing took a deep breath, trying to get mentally prepared for what is to come. 

He knocked on the frame of the dressing room, and cleared his throat.

“You wearing something on you?” he asked, trying to ignore how the whole chattering was now fading away. He could feel everyone's gaze burning into his back. It was eerily exhilarating, to say the least. 

“Yeah. Wait, we're discussing in here?” Kris's voice was slightly dulled by the curtains, but the tone of surprise was not.

“The crew doesn't need to know what's going on. They’re not as mature as they let on,” Yixing argued weakly. “I'll be coming in now.”

“Oh. Okay. Er. Makes sense,” the model replied anxiously while the photographer wondered how any of this made logical sense to the other.

Nonetheless, he drew the curtains slightly, enough to see Kris in his black velvety shirt, his back facing Yixing although their eyes met in the mirror. The photographer also saw that the top was still unbuttoned, and the taller man only had a grey pair of Calvin Klein boxers on underneath. The designer pants were hanging off the gold hanger on the right, and the cushioned seat had been moved towards the centre of the mirror. 

Strangely, Yixing couldn't help feeling that something felt amiss in the cloistered setting, but he shrugged it off.

“Er, welcome,” Kris blurted. 

The so-to-say guest could already smell the model's nervousness. The blonde sighed and stepped in, closing the curtains behind him. The complete silence outside instantly turned into a symphony of whistles and shoutouts, which both men inside deftly disregarded. 

“Okay, er, so,” Yixing started, trying to look busy as he flipped through his emails on his phone. “In our short email correspondence, it is clearly stated that you're looking for a fashion shoot, and that you're going for a simple and clean mood.” The photographer paused. “Which I didn't think could implicitly mean, er, nudity.”

Kris didn’t say a word. He just stared blankly. 

“I’m fine with this being a nude shoot by the way,” Yixing added. “In case you were wondering if you just hired a six-year-old freelance photographer with toddlers as a crew. It’s just that— I just sort of need to know that it’s one, in the first place. That’s all.”

“Right.”

Monosyllabic responses never quite irritated Yixing this much. 

“Do you have something to say, or is that the end of the misunderstanding? We’re doing a nude shoot, period? We move on? Get out there and take some pictures?” Yixing wanted to throw up his arms.

Kris gulped uneasily.

“No, well,” he started, his hand scratching the back of his neck anxiously. “I just… thought it was a nude thing because there… weren’t any clothes prepared for me in here…? So I just… assumed… and well, my agent just told me to go with the flow… and he’s not here today because—”

Yixing blinked. 

“What.”

“There weren’t any clothes in here when I came in—”

“Wha—”

Now Kris too seemed a bit aggravated if not just nonplussed. He repeated with slow but definite emphasis, “There weren’t any—”

Yixing stopped him with a hand.

How Kris could think that Yixing couldn’t hear him while standing at an arm’s length from him in a stall with barely a five-metre perimeter astonished the photographer. Granted, the mirror gave the illusion that the stall was larger, but that was not the point. 

The _point was_ : Yixing had forgotten to move the bundle of clothes the model was supposed to change into to the dressing room even though he had a good one hour and a half to do so. The whole predicament had now turned tables against him, and Kris’s confused expression barely helped at all.

Yixing just exhaled deeply and took it in like a state would a coup d’état. I.e. _pretty badly_.

He was the one who was supposed to have the better vantage point. He was the one with calmness, control and the fucking camera. He couldn’t believe everything just went out the window because he blundered over something so _menial_ like forgetting to move a box of clothes from point A to point B. Fucking ridiculous.

“But that doesn’t make any sense! _You_ should have told me that there were no clothes! You should have signalled something! Or just remembered to get the clothes yourself since you were so late,” he exclaimed. The model looked a bit vexed now.

“Well, _you_ looked like you were about to snap me in half with just your eyes, and the makeup artists looked like they could bury me alive,” Kris replied with a growing frown. 

The photographer’s eyebrows were lost under his fringe.

“I what?”

“Do I have to keep repeating what I’m saying?” The model was definitely irritated, but somehow that irritation barely got to the stupefied Yixing. He had his own agenda of how much ironic solvent he needed to forget this whole incident and live it down.

“Because _I_ said that _you_ looked like—”

Yixing’ll probably order for twelve and stress-eat two nights in a row or something. Call Luhan every other minute even if it was three in the morning. 

It sounded like a plan.

“—Right. No. _Don’t_ repeat anything anymore,” the blonde passed a hand through his hair, nerves standing on end.

“Alright,” Kris nodded once and crossed his arms, his frown barely on its way from dissipating.

Yixing sighed really heavily, his hands going to his hips, trying to re-evaluate the damage that had been caused. He attempted to cool off his mind, but when his eyes sort of fell back to the habit of going to the floor and consequently passing ‘attractive areas’ again, things suddenly went another way.

Lean body. Solid abs. A fucking happy trail. The fucking hem of the shirt barely covering the boxers that hid treasures he already had a visual taste of. 

Fucking shit.

Yixing unconsciously bit his lower lip. He discreetly turned his gaze towards the right side of the room as he blushed from the top of his cheeks. 

Kris shifted a bit out of nervousness, and the photographer could suddenly smell the other's cologne that was quite distinct and heady, lightly emanating from the movement.

Yixing suddenly felt hot.

 

 

He wanted to blame the nerves. 

He also wanted to blame Oh Sehun because if that fucker hadn’t broken up with him, he would have been able to end this ridiculous mix-up like a real professional. He would have had his daily doses of good sex and be completely unfazed by well-geared models. He would have been able to kick them out of his studio without any mercy.

He then also wanted to formally accuse Luhan for putting in impertinent ideas into his brain at inopportune times.

 

All this to say that well, _Yixing was popping a boner_.

“I'll go get your clothes,” he suggested. He took a deep breath, and then took a step back.

However, perhaps due to the cologne-induced haziness and the inception of his arousal, he lost his balance and was about to fall backwards when Kris shot an arm out to grab him and pull. That caused Yixing to ram Kris into the mirror (which cracked from the impact), and then make them both fall to the floor with a dull thud.

“Shit,” Yixing hissed.

Kris just winced. 

The model tried propping himself up, but his left arm was caught under Yixing's weight, and his right hand was now awkwardly holding the other's, their fingers slightly intertwined, and their palms pressed together.

Yixing's face was half buried in Kris's bare chest, and he was straddling the model's knee, his own having landed on the ground.

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Yixing thought bitterly.

“Are you okay?” Kris tentatively asked.

Yixing was much less than okay. His knees hurt from the fall and felt weak, his hand was sweaty, and he had a fully erect dick because somehow everything went from an aesthetically appealing teaser to a hardcore MV experience because his face was cosily plastered against Kris’s chest.

And count on a model to have very soft skin. It took every ounce of Yixing’s willpower to keep himself from rubbing against it like a kitten. 

That was probably his cue to start getting up. 

But when he tried to do so – as calmly as possible, mind – Kris suddenly had the brilliant idea to move his knee (while he was trying to get up too) that then lightly brushed against the photographer’s erection. Yixing unintentionally let out a guttural moan, and scowled.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed. His heart was starting to pace while his whole body arched forward malleably, which was not his intention at all. 

He really needed to get off fast. 

Get off as in to… get off. Like. Detach himself from Kris and run away at the speed of light, find an immaculate restroom, and then well, _get off_.

He mentally sighed.

Well, it wasn’t like Yixing’s brain was going to function properly, especially when the model brushed his knee against his dick _again_ , which made the shorter man see stars in his vision.

Yixing bit his lip: the flush on his face had already spread to his ears, and he felt warm around the neck. His breath was becoming more and more shallow, and his own trembling knees were starting to give way, spreading a few inches, making him sit on top of the model’s kneecap, with his clothed hardness against the naked skin. 

He could now feel Kris’s intense gaze settle on him.

“Are you—” the taller man started but decided to stop after two words when Yixing just turned away, utterly mortified. 

There was an extent to how much Yixing could forbear. 

The whole room seem to fall completely silent for a long while, and Yixing wanted to cry from embarrassment.

But to his surprise, Kris just moved his knee again. This time, it felt a bit more forceful, a bit more intentional, and it made Yixing turn to look at him.

“What are you—” he began, but Kris pushed his knee against his hard-on, and Yixing’s question was completely lost on him as he took in the surge of pleasure rushing through his body. 

“ _Hnnnmm_ ,” he groaned, his eyes almost closing, his hips leaning in closer, trying to shamelessly grind against the other’s knee. To the photographer’s dismay, Kris sat up straighter, letting his leg slide down slowly towards the floor, without unfolding completely.

Yixing followed suit and sat down, somewhat confused. 

Kris then unclasped their hands and reached around to the small of Yixing’s back. The touch burned against the photographer’s skin, inadvertently making him roll his hips down the other’s thighs, very experimentally. 

That was when he noticed that the bulge in Kris’s boxers was growing to something more formidable, and it made Yixing feel more aroused than he already was. The pungent cologne Kris was wearing gradually invaded the stall, making the blonde give himself over to the overbearing scent of _need_.

All sense of ethics suddenly turned to naught, like ash in the blowing wind, or just dust in the fire.

Yixing splayed a hand on the smooth chest, feeling its softness once more. His hips started rolling down, rubbing against Kris’s thigh boldly. The model started breathing a bit harder, and his eyes gleamed with animalistic lust although he wasn’t really moving. He let Yixing have his way; only a slightly amused but brief smile confirmed that the other had the green light to continue.

Yixing leaned forward, focusing on the friction more and more as he paced faster and faster into a rather desperate rhythm. During that build up, Kris had also started to roll his hips upward, his trapped cock now pushing against the top of Yixing’s left leg.

The photographer’s sight went blurry every other second. He tried to focus on the other’s face, but he could tell Kris was having the same issue. The latter tilted his head back and kept pushing and frotting his dick against Yixing’s firm thigh.

The blonde put a hand to the floor under Kris’s waist in order to ground himself, but he rocked his hips more roughly than earlier, making the man under him squirm and groan quite deliciously.

“Hnnnghhn— fuck…”

For a while, they continued on, without caring about anything save for the rhythmic pace they needed to upkeep.

Yixing’s cock was tenting hard against the front of his jeans with eagerness, leaking precum that then soaked the fabric. The photographer let that wetness smear across Kris’s skin over and over again, and it made the model shiver and gasp.

“Faster…” Kris hissed, his face completely red. Yixing choked a bit as he quickened his movements. His thrusts grew more and more frantic and erratic, and he knew that sooner or later, he was going to lose the last bits of control over his body.

Yixing’s hand slid a bit towards the left, ghosting over the other’s nipple that he then captured between his fingers. Kris practically mewled at that, his whole body curving up into the touch, head angling back even more, exposing his neck.

The photographer took the advantage to dive in: he nipped at the skin, planted rough kisses and sucked hard, letting his pent up frustration bloom in the form of purple flowery bruises across Kris’s pale skin. When Yixing retreated, his breath was unsteady, and his eyes slowly came into contact with Kris’s. 

The contact was electrifying and intense, to the point that Yixing went slightly slower with the rhythm – he was still rutting up against the taller man’s body, but somehow the atmosphere changed from frenzy to slow and steady.

Kris leaned in and timidly pressed his lips against Yixing’s. The two of them moaned as that connection grew fervent. 

The kisses were close-mouthed. However, Yixing saw stars again when he closed his eyes, and he could have sworn he had tasted a sort of sweetness, a sort of tenderness, and it was something that he never savoured before. 

And it was that strange _gentleness_ that made him come hard, let the fluid flood the inside of his pants, cause the waves of pleasure to undulate through his body, and curl his toes. Kris kept rocking his hips against his: one, to make sure Yixing rode out his orgasm completely, and two because he was so close to his.

Kris’s mouth opened slightly as he scowled, trying to build up the previous desperate rhythms again. 

Yixing pressed a kiss against the model’s mouth as his body fell lazily against the other’s, idly tracing small circles on Kris’s chest.

After a few more raspy groans coming from Kris, Yixing felt his thigh grow damp as overflowing cum was wiped against it, tracing back and forth in a line that was similar to the one on Kris’s thigh. Yixing went down and palmed at the ebbing hardness, milking it dry through the dirty Calvin Klein underwear. Kris bit down on his lip as over-stimulation drained the last bits of energy he had left. 

Yixing smiled with gratification when Kris sighed with a final whimper, even if his hand came away sticky.

 

As their breaths evened out, they tried to re-orient themselves back into reality, but thought it was slightly difficult because the smell of sex was still mildly present in the air.

Not that it urged them to go for another round. No.

Mostly because it made things more awkward.

It was not a smell either of them thought they would be experiencing _together this soon_ when there had been a ninety-percent chance that Kris didn’t even know Yixing’s name, and a ninety-nine percent chance that the photographer couldn’t have gotten over his previous relationship with a younger chap.

However, miraculously, they were both there, trying to get back on their feet after having been knocked out from a cute set of mind-blowing orgasms.

“Yi…xing, right?” Kris asked randomly.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the model responded, looking relieved for some reason, which made the photographer giggle like a little child. “I at least remember your name. That’s a good sign.”

“Uh-huh,” Yixing replied with a smile coupled with a dimple. That made Kris gulp dryly.

“Ar- are you single?” he then asked.

Yixing blinked. “Er, technically yes.”

“T-technically?”

“Um, well, I think I was in that phase where I reminisce a couple of bad things that have to do with my ex so I can get off at night, …but now I think I just … got over it,” Yixing clarified very carefully.

It was Kris’s turn to blink.

“This is so many levels of awkward,” Yixing then added for good measure. He blushed a bit, but it didn’t really make that much of a difference since he was still a bit flushed.

Kris nodded solemnly before slipping into his own thoughts. For ten seconds, the room was submerged by heavy silence again. So heavy it made them both feel like they were breathing hard underwater.

“Do you like coffee?” Kris then suddenly blurted, catching Yixing off guard.

“I… er, not really?” the photographer winced apologetically.

“Okay, then maybe this analogy would work.”

Yixing wasn’t sure where this was going.

“The first time I drank coffee,” Kris started, “I was with a friend. A really good friend, from Korea, who drink coffee like it was water. His name’s Minseok.”

“O…kay?” Yixing raised an eyebrow.

“Well, okay, er, when I tried it for the first time, and basically grimaced,” the model made a scowl, “— It tasted _rather_ awful. You know?”

“Uh-huh,” the blonde cooed.

“My friend then told me, well bruh, it’s a flavour no one likes in the beginning, but that everyone gets used to and falls in love with in the end, as long as you keep on drinking,” the model paused significantly, “Except, _I_ never got used to it even though I’ve been drinking it every day ever since,” Kris then explained.

Yixing blinked. “O…kay?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause.

“And… how is this an _analogy_?” Yixing prompted, completely confused. Kris grinned nervously.

“Er, well, I just… thought that er, _awkwardness_ is like… coffee. You can get cups and cups of it, and still never get used to it,” he elaborated, his large hands trying to close the case with abstract gestures.

“Or you know,” he bit his lip nervously, “Um. Can I get you coffee after this shoot?”

There was an awkward pause, and the model turned slightly green because of it, evidently showing that he was indeed not used to it.

Unceremoniously, Yixing laughed out loud, buried his face against Kris’s chest, and giggled wholeheartedly.

“Oh god, wait, ahahaHA, I can’t believe— AHAHAHAHA,” he was even starting to hiccup.

Kris relaxed a tad. “Or do you have plans tonight? I, er…”

Yixing looked up at Kris, smiling angelically with his dimples.

“I did, but they were shit. Want to have a dinner date?” the photographer chirped.

Kris smiled back sheepishly. “Er, yes. Yes. I know a-a good place. Just around the corner.”

“That’s perfect,” Yixing nuzzled closer.

But before Kris could say anything else, a loud clearing of the throat sound made them both jolt. 

 

And then someone spoke, with so much irony, it made the duo shiver to their bones.

“ _Hello_ , this is Do Kyungsoo. Could you please tell Dr. Park I won’t be able to make it tonight because I’m having _issues_ at work? Yeah. _Unexpected overtime_. Yes, I know I keep pushing it off. Yeah, sorry. Monday at eight sounds good. Yeah, thanks. Bye now.”

The locking sound of an iPhone was heard. And then the muffled giggles of at least a dozen individuals.

And _that_ was the _exact_ moment when Yixing and Kris remembered _where_ they _still_ were.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : _Awkward._


End file.
